If I Could Tell You
by BeggarsCan'tBeChoosers
Summary: Based on the Auden poem of the same name. Franada, side FrUK


"_Time will say nothing but I told you so,_

_Time only knows the price we have to pay;_

_If I could tell you, I would let you know."_

France stared at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand, vaguely recognising the words. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, then reached over the other occupant of his bed for the phone.

"What've you got there?" The blonde mumbled, cracking one sleepy green eye.

"Nothing, Angleterre. Think not of it." France murmured as he attempted to remember the number he needed to dial. Disliking this answer, his bedmate sat up, scowling, and snatched it off him. His lips moved silently as he read.

"_If we should weep when clowns put on their show,_

_If we should stumble when musicians play,_

_Time will say nothing but I told you so."_

"Auden." The Englishman muttered, handing it back. He eyed France suspiciously. "It was written after he discovered his lover, Chester Kallman, had been cheating on him. What've you been up to, frog?" Francis sighed and smoothed the creased paper.

"Mathieu." He murmured, that single syllable carrying so much meaning; sorrow, affection, regret… England's scowl deepened as he sat up.

"What about him?" He asked, the name bringing to mind vague recollections of America's brother.

"_There are no fortunes to be told, although,_

_Because I love you more than I can say,_

_If I could tell you I would let you know."_

Thousands of miles away, Canada himself curled morosely under his blankets, hugging Kumajirou close. He should have known – should have expected – that this would happen. He knew France well, after all, having been practically raised by him. He sighed and pressed his face to his bear's fur.

"Why am I such a fool, Kuma?" He asked. The bear, sensing his master's depression, held back the curious: 'Who?' that he wished to ask, and instead nudged the blonde with his head.

"Food." He requested, then, as an afterthought, added: "Please."

"_The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,_

_There must be reasons why the leaves decay;_

_Time will say nothing but I told you so."_

"What the fucking hell do you mean, you were seeing him?" England, snarled, folding his arms. "What kind of sick, heartless wanker are you? I knew you were a slut, but this is taking it too far! Shagging me whilst you're seeing someone? Seeing _Canada_? Poor, sweet, innocent little Canada?" He stood and collected his clothes, dressing swiftly before storming out.

"A-Angleterre! Where are you going?" France stared after him, shocked and confused.

"I'm going to go call America, let him know that Canada is going to need comforting. I'd go myself, but it would make me feel more guilty; and I don't think the poor lad would want to see me anyway. You should start preparing your sincere, grovelling apology." The Englishman spat over his shoulder before leaving completely. France sat back down on the bed and stared at his hands.

"_Perhaps the roses really want to grow,_

_The vision seriously intends to stay;_

_If I could tell you I would let you know."_

"I am… So deeply sorry, Mathieu… You can't imagine how much. Would you… Could you ever forgive me?" France stroked the boy's face tenderly as Canada looked up at him out of wide lilac eyes. But the innocent adoration in them had been replaced by suspicion and resignation, and the younger nation turned his face away from the touch.

"I should have seen this coming really, eh?" He muttered, sighing. "I… I knew what you were like. I knew… Ever since I was a child. I should have realised that you couldn't change; not even for me."

"I…" Even France knew there was no response that would make things better at this point; instead he simply leant forward and kissed Canada tenderly on the forehead. "I will call you tomorrow, mon cher. I will do everything in my power to make it up to you; to apologise. Je t'aime, Mathieu." There was no response from the Canadian, and France left, shoulders slumped and head drooping with misery and shame.

"_Suppose the lions all get up and go,_

_And all the brooks and soldiers run away;_

_Will Time say nothing but I told you so?_

_If I could tell you I would let you know…"_

**[A/N: 'If I Could Tell You', another Auden poem. I'm really creative with these titles, huh?**

**I feel like I should probably mention that I don't own these poems, but I'm sure you can guess that, neh? ;)**

**Not much to say about this one; as Iggy says, it's generally held that he wrote it as a response to Auden's lover cheating on him. I chose not to write anything for the last stanza, which is proposing the possible scenario where all Chester's other lovers leave him, because I feel it just ends better with that line; as you may have noticed, 'If I could tell you…' and 'Time will say…' are alternated as the last line of each stanza throughout the poem. **

**Now I feel clever –purrs-**

**I dunno why I picked Franada and FrUK for this. I just felt like it C: You can interpret the rest as AmeriCan, USUK or no pairing, as you please!**

**My internet is misbehaving D: At this rate, I won't be able to upload anything –sulk-**

**Hey, if you're reading this, I got it working long enough to post! C: **

**Night, my luvvies.]**


End file.
